“He might be boring to you, but he and Jane share many interests,” Lady Cotswalts said patronizingly.
“Jane shares many interests with many people because she hasmanyinterests. That does not mean Lord Comley would suit her at all,” Emily said emphatically, as though she was unsure why her mother would make such a silly suggestion.
Jane could not help but agree with her sister, though she was not about to admit it.
The last thing she needs is encouragement.
“And you think some lecherous duke would?” Lady Cotswalts raised an eyebrow.
“He is not lecherous,” Emily insisted and moved over to the window overlooking the grounds.
Lady Cotswalts scoffed. “I beg to differ. He did not get a reputation as a rake for no reason.”
“And you think a man who will probably bore Jane to death, who would make her feel small and sad, would be a better fit?” Emily shook her head disgustedly. “Besides, he stinks.”
“He does not.” Lady Cotswalts gave her a stern look. “You do not know that he and Jane would not be a perfect match. They may get on rather well.”
“I do. The man has no fire. Jane needs to be with someone who understands her passion for life. Who makes her dream big, not small,” Emily insisted.
Jane recognized the stubborn look on her sister’s face. Unfortunately, it mirrored Lady Cotswalts’ stubborn expression.
She sighed. Neither her sister nor her mother would back down, and she had no desire to listen to the two of them bicker aboutherfuture.
Losing her patience, Jane interjected, “Surely,Iam the best person to know what I need. And right now, it is a break.”
“An excellent idea, Jane. Perhaps you would like to go for a ride while Mother and I settle our argument?” Emily blinked at her innocently.
Jane frowned at her sister but could find no reason not to take her suggestion.
A good ride would be a most excellent way to burn off some of this restless energy.
“An excellent suggestion, Emily. I think I will do just that.” Jane nodded her head. “Mother, I will no doubt see you later.”
As she left her mother and sister, Jane had an odd feeling that she had played right into Emily’s hands but had no idea why that would be.
It’s not like it matters. Let Mother and Emily play their little games—it will not affect me.
ChapterTwelve
The Art Of Allowing
“Stand up straight. Speak properly. What are you, an imbecile?” the voice thundered, seeming to shake the ground.
Blake cowered, a boy once more, not a man. “I-I-I am try-trying.”
Something hard collided with him, sending him sprawling. “Stop acting like a halfwit. No son of mine should be so defective.”
The world spun.
“And what must you hold above all else?”
“Honor. I must be a man of my word.”
“What are you? A mouse? Why do you whisper?” the voice boomed, and the looming shape settled into the daunting figure of the late Duke of Caden. “Own your words.”
“I am trying.” Blake’s voice faltered, high-pitched. The voice of a child.
“Not hard enough. Why must I be cursed to have such a milksop for a son? Worry not, I will beat it out of you.”
